Homo Potter and the Legitimate Life Style Choice
by Ridley the Violator
Summary: COWRITTEN by me and TimmytheDevil.  The single most bestly written, most eroticest Harry Potter fanficiton of all time.


_**6But9Six6**_

**Homo-Erota-Potter and the Legitimate-Life-Style-Choice:**

_**A Combination of the Best of the Fine Fan Fictions Known as Celebrian, A Modicum of Pleasure, and The Evil Within**_

**By Ridley the Violator and TimmytheDevil**

It began, as these things often do, with a simple joke, from Hogwart's usual jokers, Fred and George. They were hauled up in room of requirement that day, scheming over a boiling chauldron. This time, they had decided to bring their favorite brother, Ron, along for the ride.

"Hey guys," said the thoroughly excited Ron, as he looked into the roiling pink depthes of the chauldron. "What 'zany' plot are you 'cooking' up _this_ time? Is it another 'make-every-girl-have-a-beard-like-dumbledore-trick?'" asked Ron. He was wearing his usual outfit; black leather pants and a black silk and red shirt with a fish net under shirt that the unbuttoned top of his silk shirt showed, baring his skinny pale fleshed chest. His bright red hair was bound up in a long pony tail and a manly stubbled peppered his chin like red pepper.

George and Fred looked into eachother's eyes slyly and winked at eachother slyly, their eyes twinkling, leaving Ron out of the loop, as usual.

Ron rolled his green eyes and ran an exhaspereated hand through his shock and pony tail of rusty brown hair. "You guys," he said, shrugging exhasperatedly.

Fred and George laughed slyly at him behind his back. "You'll see, Ron-e-roony," chortled one of them, tugging on the lapels of his big neo-like leather jacket and adjusting his expensive sun-glasses. The twins wore matching outfits, since they were twins.

Ron was worried but he was a little bit excited because he was finally in the loop of his brother's crazy schemes this time. He wanted to know what kind of mischief the two pranksters were up to _this time_.

"Alright," said Fred—or Goerge—he could never tell with those two after all they're twins. "Do you have the final ingredient?" asked Fred.

"Yep," said one of them in response. He pulled a large jar from his jeans pocket. It was large, and had a mysterious white liquid in it."

Ron stared, wondering what it could be.

"These are the 'samples' from everyone we want the spell to affect." said Fred, as he winked a twinkling eye at his twin brother. He un-screwed the lid slyly.

A familiar odor rose into the air. Ron could not quite place its salty scent, but it reminded him of something he had smelled once while walking in on Shaeumus and Dustin Finch Fletchly in the boy's-dormitory-room.

George slowly poured out the milky substance from the jar into the chauldron, meticulously, watching as the liquid poured in slowly. Ron watched excitedly as the frothing pink substance in the chauldron immediately began to react to white substance.

All of a sudden, and without any warning at all, the substance began to boil over in a the-spaggetti-was-on-the-burner-to-long-kind-of-way, the two liqiuids mixing together to form one bright neon pink froth.

Fred and George stared, their twinkling moist eyes shuddering in horror. Ron's mouth dropped out, and his tongue unraveled in terror. "What have you done you done with this stupid prank!" he said. "It may destroy us all-at-once and without warning!"

George and Fred looked at eachother and shrugged.

Suddenly, the chauldron exploded in a huge ball of wet pink smoke, which Ron was sure would soon engulf the entire school of Hogwarts School of Witchcrafter and Wizardry. He couldn't help but gasp and breath in huge lungfuls of the smoke, choking on its pink salty taste. Fred and George also inhaled large quantities of the coupious-strangely-colored-smoke.

When the smoke cleared some after some while, George and Fred looked into each others twinkling green eyes and gasped, gapingly, then proceeded to stare at Ron with ferfor. Ron couldn't understand why they were looking at him in that strange way, until he looked down and saw the huge-bulges straining at their black cargo pants with chains and gothic band patches sown on the butt.

Then they pounced quickly.

Mr. Weasly sighed exhasperatedly, trying to short some of the papers on his new mahogany desk. He hadn't realized when he'd taken the new-defense-against-the-dark-arts-job-at Hogwart's-School-of Witchcraft and wizardry. There was just so very much paper work and work to do before each lesson, and he hadn't even gotten to see his favorite son Harry. He was worried that the boy was off with Fred and George again. Mr. Weasly sighed again and ran a hand through his full shock of rusty brown hair. All he wanted was to get started _teaching_, but it seemed like distraction after distraction was veritably _pouring_ in to him.

He was wearing a big red leather jacket and red leather pants with a white belt. His hair was made to look like spikes and he wasn't wearing a shirt underneath the jacket.

All of a sudden and without any warning at all, Mr. Malfoy burst in; Mr. Weasley gaped in horror and surprise at the sudden intrution apon his work.

"How could Dumbledore be so stupid as usual by giving YOU my postion at Hogwarts you rusty-haired-fucking-faggot-munching-fat-fuck!" hissed Malfoy as he stormed in, yelling. His baggy black tee and cargo pants with two chains and band patches on rustled noisily as he yelled as he stalked in.

Mr. Malfoy stalked up to Mr. Weasly's desk and pounded his pale clenched fist into the hard mahogany of the desk's wood. He repeated the motion fluidly, over and over again, until all of Mr. Weasly's papers were strewn all over the room, his papers everywhere.

"You fucking red headed fucker freckled cum bucket brain shit nugget nigger whore cockwasher!" said .

Mr. Weasly shot to his legs, pulling out his fenex fether wand wand as he got up. He pointed it at Malfoy stiffly. "_Malfoy_," he said. "I always new it would come to this, on day. I _won't_ let you _corrupt_ these _kids_ by _teaching them _the _dark arts_ because I _know that you are a death eater_."

Malfoy leered, his pale lips curling back on perfectly straight, pearly white teeth. His chest heaved beneath his fishnet shirt, his nipples pointing stiffly at Mr. Weasly like little wands of their own. He slowly reached down his body and into his athletic cup sized crotch bulge and produced a long, thin, pale wand. He leveled the shaft at Mr. Weasley.

"You won't prove shit you faggot," said Mr. Malfoy. "Not after I kill you."

Mr. Weasly felt uncomfortable around Mr. Malfoy and his incredible abs. Sometimes Mr. Weasley would wake up sweating from dreams in which…but nay, it was too perverse to consider; he was not that kind of man, a man who would think so of _another gentleman._

"It's unfortunate, really," said Mr. Malfoy. "I've always respected you, Weasly, even if you are a mud blood and a blood traitor. Your…assets…are undeniable." Malfoy leered again, his wand lingering on Mr. Weasley's crotch as he aimed it at every which part of his body. "But I also can't wait to _come _up against you, and see what you've really got."

"Heh. Malfoy. All talk and no play." Mr. Weasly grunted. "Too busy giving blowjobs in Nocturn Alley alleyways to take the time to take me on for taking your position?"

"Oh, no," said Malfoy, his face flushed. "You must have heard wrong." He smirked. "_I _wasn't the one giving the blowjobs…"

Mr. Weasley gasped as a wave of pure sexual tension flooded over him. At that moment, pink smoke shoot out from the cracks in the wooden floor and ceiling, spraying pink vapor all over Malfoy's and his's faces.

Before he could move, or step aside, staggered forwards, his head hazed. Mr. Malfoy caught him in his strong pale arms, his manly muscles bunching.

"Oh my", cried Mr. Weasley, lifting his face to that of the strong, pale, Malfoy, flushing a bright crimson hue.

"WHAT TRICKORY IS THIS" yelled Malfoy, his chest heaved as he pressed against Wealsley in an attempt to through him off of him. "What are you trying to accomplish you fucking faggoty-ass bitch sucking fucker!"

"Now I want to be the one giving the blowjobs" whispered Mr. Weasley sexily, his hot breath caressing the white cheek of his long-time-and-feared-enemy. Mr. Malfoy stared at him as a tiny trickle of pink vapor slowly _leaked_ out of Malfoy's nose. His body contorting errotically with Weasely in his arms and he thought how good it was that he had already cleared his desk of all his pesky papers.

A cloud of reddish lust clouding his eyes, Mr. Malfoy swept Mr. Weasly up in his steely arms and deposited him roughly on the desk, knocking a few more of his papers astray. They stared into eachothers lust crazed eyes, locking eyes for an instant with lustful expressions each.

"Be gentle," said in a tiny voice.

's pallad lips curled back in a devilish smirk. "I can make no promises, you sexy little red headed flamer."

It was late one evening long after midnight when Harry Potter snuck into Dumbledore's head office. He cracked the large mahogany door open to peer inside, his glasses twinkling in the midnight moon's light shinning in through the drapes.

As always the glittering arrays of tiny golden 'devices'line the long flat wide mahogany desks all around the room. Harry had always longed to ask Dumbledore what the devices were used for, but he had always been to shy to ask. Dumbledore's eyes would only twinkle mischeviously through his half-moon-glasses, his wizened lips drawing up into a tiny smile whenever Harry asked.

Row upon row of glittering golden trinkets lined the desks. Looking at them up close he noticed that they all had at least twelve inches of vertical length, no matter what other shape they were.

But Harry was not here to play with Dumbledore's toys. No, he was on a mission, something that not even Dumbledore could help him with.

Turning around, he spotted his prize. The Pensive, with it's glittering, opaque substance, shiny dully, sat behind him. He snuck up to it, peering down into the silvery substance and thought about how it may taste. Colin creavy always talked about how tasty its silvery opaque fluids were—but harry wanted to see for hiself! He had always wanted to sample the stuff—it looke d so delicious, like something from Fred and George's candy shop. He had often found himself salivating at the thought of tastingDumbledore's silvery memories.

Gingerly, he penetrated the silvery surface of the pensive with the tip of his middle finger, slowly sinking it inside the curiously resistant surface. Slowly, he removed his finger, a trail of twinkling silvery memory substance dragging from it. He tilted his head back, and deposited his finger into his mouth, sucking slowly, savoring the surprisingly salty taste.

He swallowed.

It was even better than he had imagined.


End file.
